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"If we could always be like this," he lied.

Hi guys, it's a day of #BookCoverReveal
My debut novel, a collection of Hindi poems. All lovers of Hindi Poetry, here's a treat for you.
It's coming out soon. Stay tuned.

I miss my Sepideh very much. Sometimes I fear I won’t be able to carry on without her calming presence. Why did she have to die so suddenly, so improbably? Just when our happiness was reaching its zenith, and hers, too: just as she was beginning to realize the meaning of motherhood, the joy and anticipation of watching her only child grow up. . .

No, even that’s not completely true. My cussed disposition may have ensured that I felt perversely contrary, antipathetic to their bewildered suspicions. But I never deliberately postured, or projected myself as someone, or something I wasn’t. If my folks saw me as doltish, it was because their minds were already predisposed on that score.

I was already three, and they had begun to worry that I was a little backward, if not actually feeble-minded; well, certainly not as bright as my elder brother—of that there was no question.

Do you seriously believe you won’t need me one day? Astride those emaciated shoulders rides the ghost of a corpse. You don’t see him now, but it’s only a matter of time, believe me, before your blood turns to ice, your limbs harden like wood. Then, ask yourself, will your near and dear ones wash and clothe you for the final goodbye? No, sweet man, you’ll have to depend on one of us.

It's picking up.

The cafe’s name was Funiculi Funicula. It had become famous, with long
queues each day, on account of the time-travelling. But it wasn’t possible to find anyone who had actually gone back in time, because of the extremely annoying rules that had to be followed. The first rule was:
The only people you can meet while in the past are those who have visited the cafe.

Heart-breaking. This is.

Absolutely mind-blowing fast-paced quick-witted stories.